What Came Before
by broncomap
Summary: An old man from Matt's past comes to Dodge, seeking some answers
1. An old man visits

Disclaimer - I did not invent these characters and do not profit from them in any way. I just like to make up stories.

This takes place when Matt Dillon has been a marshal for about 10 years.

It was a hot, dusty August day in Kansas when James Blake walked into the Long Branch for the first time. He was elderly, in his eighty's in fact and very well dressed. He walked with the slowness of old age, but none of the stoop and unsteadiness that in some accompanies the slowness. He was of medium height and build, with a full head of neatly combed grey hair. He walked over to the bar and looked expectantly at the bartender.

Sam walked over, "What can I get you sir?"

"Whiskey please. The best you've got. I'm too old to be drinking bad whiskey."

Sam smiled, "Yes, sir," and brought over a glass of the most expensive whiskey in the Long Branch.

The man took a sip, "Not bad, not the best I've ever had, but better than most."

Kitty had walked out from her office just then and heard the old man's comment. She was amused and decided to go over and introduce herself.

"Hello, I'm Kitty Russell. This is my saloon. I'm glad to hear that our whiskey is better than most."

The old man turned to her, smiled and nodded, "A pleasure Miss Russell, and yes I've had a lot worse. Of course, I've traveled quite a bit and I recall having better a few times." He paused and laughed a little, "I admit that some of that travel was when I was a younger man, and it could be that memory makes things better as we grow older."

Kitty laughed with him, "That may be. So, what brings you to Dodge City?"

The man took another sip of whiskey, "My name's James Blake and I'm looking for someone. A man named Matthew Dillon. He's be in his mid thirty's, a tall fellow. I can't say how tall, I haven't seen him for twenty years. In fact he was a teenager when I last saw him. He was tall then and it's possible he's even taller now." The man laughed, "Anyway, I heard he that he had traveled to Dodge City a while ago, and thought he might still be here. I'd like to talk to him."

Kitty kept her poker face on while the man spoke. Matt had been the marshal of Kansas out of Dodge City for about 10 years now and had acquired quite a reputation. She wondered if the old man really didn't know who Matt Dillon was. She hesitated ever so slightly before responding.

"Well Mr. Blake, did you know Matthew Dillon well?"

Blake looked at her as he downed the last bit of his whiskey. He set his glass down, "Miss Russell, I've lived for a very long time, and I have observed people for a very long time. You see, I have done a great many things in my life. I've been a con artist, gun slinger, card dealer, body guard - I won't bore you with the complete list. Let me just say that experience has taught me a lot. I know, by looking in your eyes and hearing your tone of voice , that you know Matthew Dillon well, and that you care for him a great deal. Let me reassure you, I mean him no harm. I merely want to see him again before I die."

Kitty tried to hide her surprise, "Well Mr. Blake, I believe that Mr. Dillon is out of town at the moment."

Blake looked at her closely, " And if anyone would know when he was going to be back, it would be you. I guess I'll be staying for a while. Do you have a suggestion as to where I might stay?"

Kitty continued to be surprised by the perceptive stranger, "The Dodge House is the best. There are a couple of other choices, but that's the best."

Blake paid for his drink and looked at Kitty, "The Dodge House it is. I'll be there and I trust that when you see Matthew Dillon next, you'll tell him of our encounter. I won't have to use a lot of energy seeking him. Once he know's I'm here, he will look for me. Good night."

James Blake left and Kitty leaned on the bar.

Sam looked at her, "Miss Kitty, do you really think that he doesn't realize that he's looking for a US Marshal?"

Kitty shook her head slightly, "I don't know Sam, but Mr. Blake is right, I'll tell Matt about him as soon as I see him. You know he never answered my question when I asked if he had known Matt well. I guess I'll find out."


	2. A piece of Matt's past

That night James Blake stood in his room at the Dodge House, looking in the mirror. These days whenever he looked in a mirror he was surprised to see that the face that stared back looked so old.

Blake spoke to his reflection, "Of course you look old, you are old - you fool. You've done a lot of living, more than most."

Blake undressed and went to bed continuing to reflect, "I hadn't thought about Matthew Dillon for a while, but now I can't stop thinking about him. I have to know what happened to him."

Later that Night

Kitty was sitting in a back table at the Long Branch when Doc walked in and went over to join her.

Kitty looked up, "Hello Doc, I see you already have a beer in hand, please sit down and join me."

Doc sat down and took a sip of beer, "Well Kitty you were deep in thought when I walked over, what's going on?"

Kitty filled him in on her conversation with James Blake finishing with, "He said that he knew Matt 20 years ago. That would have been when Matt was a young teenager living on the Brass Ring horse ranch in Texas. Matt said that the owners of that ranch knew his parents and took him in when his mother died a few years after his father was killed."

Doc nodded, "I remember Matt talking about that. His father was a Texas Ranger who was killed in the line of duty, and life was a real struggle for his mother after that. She died a few years later. Matt was never sure of the cause of death. From his description, it sounds like it might have been tuberculosis.

Kitty and Doc were silent for a few minutes. They both knew that they were the only people that Matt was close enough to, to share his past with.

Doc finally spoke, "About Mr. Blake, Kitty are you worried that this man means to harm Matt, or are you annoyed that Matt never mentioned him to you? In case you were wondering, he never mentioned a James Blake to me either."

"Oh Curly, I think you know that Matt and I have shared a lot over the years." Kitty started to blush a little but continued, "Of course things will come up that we haven't told each other, and not because we're hiding anything from each other. There are just things that don't come up."

Doc had to agree. "Kitty I know, and I also know how much you and Matt mean to each other. I guess I'm just asking for your assessment of he situation.

Kitty responded thoughtfully, "In this case I don't think that an old man like that can harm Matt, but I don't know if he is working with other people, and I don't know in what way he was connected with Matt. I just want to be sure to let Matt know that Mr. Blake is here as soon as he gets back."

Kitty and Doc turned as then heard clanging spurs approach. It was Festus walking over, telegram in hand. It had been addressed to him, but he knew that it was meant for Miss Kitty.

Festus handed the telegram to Kitty, "Miss Kitty, this just came in. It is from Matthew."

"Thank you Festus. I'll read it aloud "Assignment took longer than expected. Will be back Thursday."

Doc looked at Festus, "This is Tuesday, can you handle things until Thursday?"

Festus was annoyed, "You know I can. I admit there have been a few times that I messed up when Matthew was away, but I can handle it."

Kitty gave Doc a look and responded to Festus, "Of course you can Festus, and Matt will be back the day after tomorrow."

Festus nodded, "Glad to see someone had confidence in me." He stormed out.

Kitty looked at Doc, "I don't know why you have to be so hard on Festus."

Doc took a sip of beer and answered, "Kitty, sometimes I find it fun to just rile Festus up. There are other times, like this, when I just wish Matt would get back. I'd like to find out what this business with James Blake is about."

Kitty took Doc's hand, "You and me Curly, you and me."


	3. A teenage loser

James Blake had arrived in Dodge City on Tuesday, and for the next couple of days kept to himself, dong nothing much more than resting, eating, going to a saloon for an occasional glass of whiskey and walking around the town. He was pleased to find the town more interesting and civilized than he had expected. He planned to continue to do what he was doing and wait. He was confident that the lovely Kitty Russell would tell Matthew of his presence.

Thursday morning he was lying in bed picturing himself 20 years ago, when he was a mere lad in his 60's.

He had been a card dealer in a Texas saloon called the Silver Star, and had had the reputation of being one of the best dealers in the country. He enjoyed his job and found himself to be very amused on the nights when cowboys from the local ranches came in and gambled. They always got very drunk and very careless. Winning their money was almost too easy. There was a particularly rowdy bunch from the Brass Ring ranch that came in every weekend and sometimes on weekday nights. He started noticing a kid that traveled with the bunch. He had heard someone call him Matthew. The first time the kid came in, he heard him tell the bartender that he was 18. What a joke, he remembered thinking, 14 would be more like it, but the bartender believed him or pretended to. He was a exceptionally tall kid, although he hadn't really filled out yet.

Blake was an astute observer of people, and the kid interested him. On one hand he was polite even courteous, with the saloon girls. Blake had even observed the kid helping one of the girls carry packages. On the other hand that kid had a temper – what a temper. He drank enough to keep up with the other cowboys and got into fights, a lot of fights.

Even now, 20 years later Blake smiled to himself as he pictured that one Sunday morning like it was yesterday. He was walking along and saw something move in the alleyway next to the saloon. He went to investigate. There was that kid, sleeping in the alley. There were some cuts on his face and by the smell of his breath he was going to have one mean hangover when he woke up.

Blake almost had walked on but decided not to. Instead he went into the saloon, filled a pitcher with water, grabbed a glass and went back to the kid. He filled the glass and tossed the water into the kids face.

The kid woke up and sat holding his head, "Say, what did you do that for?"

"Kid, you are in no position to be asking anyone for any explanations. You should be ashamed of yourself. You were drunk, fighting and now are sleeping in an alleyway. What are you all of 14 years old?"

"I'm 18."

Seeing the look being given him the kid had amended his answer, "Well 15."

Blake shook his head, "I don't think so but it's not worth quibbling,"

The kid groaned, turned his head and proceeded to empty the remaining contents of his stomach on to the ground of the alleyway. When he finished he sat holding his head and moaned a miserable moan.

Blake refilled the glass with water, "Here drink this."

The kid took the glass of water and drank it down.

Looking back James Blake couldn't remember why he did what he did next, but he said, "Kid follow me."

"What do you mean? Where?"

"Never mind, just follow."

The kid followed and they went to Blake's elegantly furnished rooms. He put up some coffee, and started cleaning the kid's cuts.

As he finished he commented, "You know, you are one lousy fighter."

The kid looked insulted, "What do you mean? I think I'm pretty good."

"Kid you are bigger than most, have a good reach and are pretty strong, you get by with that some. On the other hand anyone with half a brain who isn't totally drunk can take you, because you really are a lousy fighter."

"I'm plenty good."

"Stand up and move to the middle of the room, and take your best punch at me."

Blake smiled at the memory of how angry the kid had looked, as he rose up, moved to the middle of the room and took a big swing at Blake's head. The older man ducked and followed with a punch to the kid's gut, leaving him doubled over.

As the kid recovered and sat down Blake brought over two cups of coffee. He handed one to the kid.

After taking a big swallow of coffee the kid looked up. Blake never got over the surprise of what that kid said next, "Mister, you know how to fight. I get that. I've also seen that you know how to handle a gun. The other night when that man accused you of cheating, I was there. He drew on you and your gun was out so fast I couldn't believe it. So I want you to teach me."

"Kid, that's one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard. A professor I am not"

"Why? You are good at fighting and handling a gun, and I want to learn both."

"Kid, for one thing, even if I did decide to teach someone it wouldn't be you. You are not man enough."

Matt started to argue, but was interrupted.

"Kid, first of all I can tell that you don't understand that drinking and guns don't mix. I'm not saying if you wear a gun you can never have a drink, but you can't drink so much it clouds your judgment or rules your emotions. A real man knows this. Second, a real man doesn't look for a fight. I've seen you look for plenty. You're always getting into fights over nothing." Blake laughed again at the kid, "Anyway you probably don't even own a gun – a good thing in my opinion. Here, I'll give you another cup of coffee, and you should go home."

To Blake's surprise the kid wouldn't give up, "Alright, if I cut out fighting and drinking, save money and buy a gun, will you teach me?"

Looking back, Blake again couldn't fathom why he continued to engage with this kid, "Kid, if you do those things and come back here, I'll teach you."

The kid nodded, "By the way you don't have to call me kid. My name's Matthew."

"Alright, Matthew. You can call me Mr. Blake.


	4. Lessons

James Blake got out of bed Thursday morning, and slowly dressed as he continued to picture his dealings with the young Matthew Dillon, twenty years before.

Blake had sent the kid, Matthew, home on that Sunday and fully expected to see him drinking and brawling the following Friday night if not before. He was wrong. In fact a full 6 weeks passed with no sign of the kid in the saloon. Blake has started to worry that the kid would actually follow through, and hoped that he was merely going to other saloons in order to avoid him.

Then one Sunday, early in the day, there was a knock at the door. He opened it and was not totally surprised to see Matthew standing there holding a gun belt and gun in one hand."

"Hello Mr. Blake, I did what we agreed to."

"Come in Matthew." James Blake gave a big sigh, "I'm a man of my word. Put the gun belt on and holster the gun."

The kid stepped into the room and did as he was told as Blake shut the door. He stood there looking kind of proud, gun belt on, gun holstered and hands at his sides.

Blake turned, and in a flash removed the gun from the holster, smiling as the kid flinched.

"Relax kid, I just want to take a look at your gun." Blake examined the gun and tossed it gently in his hand, "It's a piece of crap you know."

Matthew answered seriously, "It's the only thing I could afford. I'll save to get a better one."

Blake handed the gun back, "Matthew you know you can only wear the gun when you're working with me."

"Why is that?"

"Kid you can't be so stupid that you can't figure that out."

"Well it's probably because if people see me wearing a gun, they'll expect that I'm ready to use it, and I'm not."

"Good. If you were too stupid to figure that one out, I don't think I'd even try to teach you anything. Matthew, follow me."

They rode out to the countryside for a first lesson. After that they worked all day every Sunday and a couple of times during the week, during the hours when they were both free. Blake could tell that Matthew practiced in between lessons.

Now 20 years later, Blake could recall some of the things he had told Matthew over those weeks and months as they worked. Some were easy lessons, some not.

"Matthew, don't ever let an opponent position you so the sun is in your eyes."

"Matthew, stay aware; focus every fiber of your being. You have to sense the slightest movement at the beginning of the movement."

"Matthew in a fist fight you have to anticipate a man's next move. Anticipating is not the same as guessing."

"Matthew put your weight behind your punch."

"Matthew, there are times when you can use a fist instead of a gun.

"Matthew always keep your mind on your objective, don't let yourself get rattled.

"Matthew, don't shoot a man unless you have to. If you wound him, you'll cripple his body, or his mind, or both. If you kill him, that's forever."

"Matthew, wearing a gun means someday you're going to kill. Put that day off as long as you can."

"Mr. Blake, why do you say that?"

"Matthew, killing a man is something that changes you, even if you had a good reason to do it. You don't forget a man whose life you ended."

"Mr. Blake, have you killed men?"

"Yes, Matthew, a few times in fact, always in self defense. Even so, you never forget."

And so the lessons went on, week after week, month after month.

At the end of one lesson Matthew turned to James Blake, "Mr. Blake, while you are teaching me about fighting and handling a gun, would you teach me better card skills?

"What! Kid what do you want me to do that for."

"Mr. Blake, I don't want to be a hard dealer or hustler, I just want to be able to be a good player, and be able to spot a cheat."

"Matthew, the next thing I know you'll be asking me to teach you how to make a good pot of coffee, skin a rabbit and sew a button on a shirt."

Looking quite serious Matthew answered, "No Mr. Blake. I have those things covered on my own."

Blake recalled smiling a little. He had to admit to himself that he had become quite fond of the kid, "Alright Matthew, next time I'll bring a deck of cards and I'll teach you a thing or two when we stop to eat lunch."

Blake knew he had never told Matthew how astonished he had been at his fast progress, or how much he had come to look forward to the lessons.

The lessons went on for well over a year. Then the Sunday morning came when Matthew didn't arrive at Blake's door as usual. Blake remembered thinking, "Maybe the kid is sick. No that kid hardly ever gets sick, and even if he is sick he shows up and pretends he isn't"

The hours ticked by, and Blake decided to ride out to the Brass Ring ranch to see what had happened to Matthew. He had tried to convince himself that he was golng out of curiosity not concern.

He had almost reached the ranch when Jeff Springer, a ranch hand rode up to him.

"Hello Jeff, I was just going up to the ranch to see Matthew."

Springer replied, "Funny you should say that James. Matthew left early this morning. Just up and left.

"Where'd he go?"

"Don't know, he was always a funny kid. Always seemed his mind was going off in different directions. Anyway he gave me a note to give you. See you Friday, James." Springer rode off.

James Blake opened the note.

Dear Mr. Blake,

Thank you for all that you have taught me. I'll remember every lesson.

Yours,

Matthew Dillon

Blake was surprised and a little angry. He calmed himself and remembered that the kid didn't owe him anything. He had offered to give Matthew lessons under certain conditions, and the kid had fulfilled those conditions. Still he couldn't help but wonder what would come of Matthew Dillon.


	5. Weapon

Thursday evening James Blake was walking to the Long Branch Saloon, still looking back 20 years.

For the next months after receiving the note from Matthew, Blake continued to deal cards at the Silver Star. At first he expected Matthew to show up at any moment, but gradually thoughts of the teenager came less and less frequently. Months later, awell dressed man came into the Silver Star, and after playing cards several times at Blake's table, offered him a job dealing in a fancy gambling hall in New York City. Blake seized the opportunity.

After working in New York City for a few years, Blake made a connection with an Earl from London. Again opportunity had struck. Blake and Earl Baynor agreed to become partners in some British gambling houses. Blake had relocated to London and had been living there for the past 10 years.

He hadn't about of Matthew Dillon for a long time. Then a year ago he had been struck with pneumonia. It was touch and go for a while, but he recovered. The illness had reminded him of his mortality. As silly as it seems for a man in his 80's he had never thought much about his time being limited. Now he realized that it was. He knew that another bout with pneumonia, or even a less serious disease could take him out, at his advanced age.

So he had started thinking about his past and then about Matthew Dillon. He knew he had taught the boy well, and it might not be an overstatement to say that he had unleashed a lethal weapon.

Blake had found himself more and more wanting to find out what had happened to his student. Was Matthew dead, in jail, on the lam, living high on ill-gotten gains or did he use his skills for something else? Or maybe he was a farmer with 6 or 7 kids. No, that wouldn't be the Matthew he knew and no one changes that much.

A little later at the Long Branch

James Blake sat alone at a table and observing the activity around him. He was drinking the most expensive whisky in the place of course. After a while he became amused by an exchange taking between by two cowboys, but his amusement was replaced by alarm.

The cowboys had clearly had too much too drink and started insulting each other. Soon the insults turned physical and they started pushing each other around. Fortunately neither was wearing a gun, but they glasses were being thrown as well as punches. Innocent bystanders were in danger.

The bat wing doors flew open and in strode a big, authoritative man. Blake noticed the badge immediately – a US Marshal's badge.

The man got to the fighting cowboys in two strides. "Stop right there." The voice sounded strange but familiar to Blake.

The marshal easily separated the two men. One took a swing at him, which he easily deflected. He took each man by the collar, almost lifting them off the floor, "Alright Jim and Larry, I want you both to go home to your wives. I want you to tell them what fools you've been, and then sleep it off. If I see you behaving like this again, I'll throw you both in jail."

With that he released the two men and they slunk out of the Long Branch.

Blake said to himself, "Is that him?" Then he noticed the marshal's eyes search the saloon and stop when they met Miss Russell's then he was sure. Suddenly Blake didn't want a reunion right there, and he quietly went out the door. He didn't notice that a disgruntled looking cowboy followed him out.

Meanwhile, Matt had met Kitty's eyes and he walked over to her.

"Hello Cowboy, I didn't know you were back."

"Kitty, I just got in. I was walking down the street with Festus, and get this, he was telling me how quiet things have been when I heard the ruckus."

Kitty smiled, "I'm glad you're back, Buy you a drink?"

"Thanks"

Matt took a sip of beer, when Kitty touched his arm, "Matt, there's a man looking for you. An elderly man, he's been here a few days. His name is James Blake, he is staying at the Dodge House."

Matt looked surprised, "James Blake, well I'll be. I haven't thought about him in years. I'm amazed he's still alive."

Meanwhile the man who had followed James Blake out of the Long Branch caught up with him and shoved a gun in his back saying, "Alright old man hands up and turn around slowly."

Blake did as he was told and spoke quietly, "If you want money, you will find that I'm not carrying much, but I have quite a bit in my hotel room. Why don't you come with me to get it, or better yet I'll go and bring my money back here to you."

The man snarled, "You must think I'm stupid you old geezer. I'll get your money soon enough. First I'm going to get Matt Dillon. I was going to just shoot him in the back, but I came up with a better idea. Find some like you who is easy to take hostage. That fool marshal won't let me shoot an innocent man. He'll come out, to save you. This way he'll see who is killing him, and he'll know why.

The man wrapped his arm around Blake's neck squeezing tight. He fired his gun into the air and as expected Marshal Dillon came running out of the Long Branch. He stood still when he saw the man holding James Blake, a small crowd gathered behind the marshal."

Matt looked at the man, "Well it's Max Starker, isn't it."

"That's right Dillon. You remember me so you must remember that you killed my brother, Jess."

"Your brother was hung for murder. I didn't kill him."

"You brought him in, that's the same thing as killing him. Now I want you to take your gun from that holster nice and slow and easy and toss it a way's over there. Go on, or I'll blow this old man's head off."

"Don't be a fool, you won't get away with it."

"Toss the gun Dillon."

Matt did as he was told.

"Now Dillon, you are going to take two steps forward and stand still. I am going to shoot you dead. Go ahead two steps or the old man's dead."

Matt took two steps - the tension in the air was palpable.

Suddenly a muted shot was heard and Starker fell off to the side. James Blake stood there with a pearl handled derringer in his hand.

Matthew looked at James Blake, and Blake looked back, "Matthew, whenever possible have a secret weapon. Did I ever tell you that one?"

"No Mr. Blake, I don't think you ever did."

TBC


	6. Conversations

Max Starker had been shot in the side by James Blake and was lying in the dirt. As Matt was looking at Blake, out of the corner of his eye he saw Starker move toward the gun that he had dropped when he was shot.

Matt dove to his gun, rolled to his side and fired, hitting Starker in the chest.

James Blake looked on, "Excellent Matthew. You remembered to stay aware."

Matt rose from the ground and pointed at Starker's body, "A couple of you boys take him over to Percy's." He then walked over to Blake, "Mr. Blake, can I buy you a drink?"

"Certainly Matthew, as long as you know I only drink the finest whiskey the saloon has to offer."

They went in and Kitty, Festus and Doc were invited to join them. Doc and James Blake went and sat at a table while Kitty, Festus and Matt went to get drinks for all of them.

Taking the opportunity to speak without Matt being present, Blake looked at Doc, "Matthew is a US Marshal. Would you say he is good at his job?"

Doc looked back, "In my opinion, he's the best this country has ever seen. I'll just add that I'm not alone in that opinion."

Blake nodded, "Is he an honerable man?"

Doc looked right into Blake's eyes, "There is no finer man, and I'm proud, very proud that he is my friend."

At that moment Festus, Kitty and Matt returned to the table with drinks. Kitty and Matt had beers in front of them. Doc, Festus and Blake were drinking whiskey.

Blake took a sip of whisky and looked at Kitty, "Miss Russell, I believe that your whisky is growing on me."

Kitty laughed, "I'm mighty glad to hear that, and please call me Kitty."

"All right, and please call me James, Doc and Festus you too. Matthew, you can call me Mr. Blake."

Matt nodded seriously as he finished his beer and stood, "Folks, I'd better be making my rounds. I'll be back."

As Matt turned to leave James Blake caught his arm, "Matthew, would you mind if I told your friends about our past."

Matt smiled, "Not at all. You can even mention the part about finding me passed out in an alleyway at the age of 15, well maybe it was 14 after all."

Matt enjoyed seeing the astounded looks on the faces of Kitty, Doc and Festus as he walked away.

James Blake looked at the eager faces of his companions and told them the story start to finish.

A few hours later Matt returned to the Long Branch and found Kitty and James Blake alone at a table. Matt sat down and Kitty left to take care of business, knowing that Matt and James Blake should have time alone.

"Matthew, I hear you're a mighty fine marshal, and folks say your word as good as gold."

"Well, Mr. Blake, I remembered all of your lessons. That helped me find my way."

"Matthew, now and again I wondered why you left so suddenly."

Matt shook his head, "You know, I don't exactly know why I did. I was young. I remember feeling trapped, like I was going to spend my life on that ranch doing chores. I wanted adventure I guess, maybe some kind of freedom. It boiled up in me and reached a point where it exploded and I just left."

"Matthew, what did you do then?"

"I did this or that. I joined a bunch of cowboys, and we hired ourselves out to cattle drivers to keep rustlers away, I worked at a couple of ranches, I tracked. After a while I really started to notice what happened in places where no one was willing to uphold the law. That bothered me, it bothered me a lot, so I decided to become a lawman. Through it all I never forgot your lessons, and I'm grateful to you. I'm still alive because of you."

"Matthew, thank you. You've told what I came to find out, and I'm glad things turned out the way they did. Real glad." Blake stood up, "I'll be going now."

"Where to?"

"There are a few places I want to visit while there is still time. Goodbye Matthew."

He turned to go but caught sight of Kitty and turned back, "One last lesson - Matthew, if a woman loves you deep and you love her deep, be sure she knows how you feel. I learned that lesson too late."

James Blake turned and without looking back left the saloon.

Very Late That Night

Upstairs at the Long Branch Matt sat watching Kitty take off her make-up and take down her hair. She is looked in the mirror and spoke to Matt's reflection.

"Matt, James Blake sure had an interesting story to tell about your youth."

Matt laughed, "I'm sure everything he told you was true. I sure learned a lot from him, Kitty. I'm grateful."

Kitty stood and turned towards Matt. He rose and walked towards her putting his hands on her shoulders, "Kitty, you know how I feel about you don't you?"

"Cowboy, I know how you feel, but it is nice to hear."

"Kitty it's just – it's just that I love you so much that I - well, I just don't know words for it."

Kitty smiled, "I think right then, you just did fine."

Matt pulled her forward and kissed her long and lingeringly. When their lips parted Kitty took a moment to recover, "Well Cowboy, now that someone showed up and explained how you learned about cards, guns and fists will someone show up to explain how you learned to kiss like that?"

Matt blushed ever so slightly. Then he pressed his lips against hers again, as he picked her up and carried her to bed.

The End


End file.
